


Champagne

by afterism



Category: Horrible Histories
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mask Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/pseuds/afterism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the anon meme prompt: Charles has a rather intriguing, and sensual, encounter with a masked stranger during one of his balls</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne

"Sothers, you _must_ come. There's going to be all sorts of people who I'm sure are very important and I need _you_ to keep them busy while I enjoy the party, otherwise it will be an utter bore while they drone on about... politics, or whatever it is they do, and expect me to listen, and dear Nell's going to be there tonight and really, Sotherby, I'm sure you have nothing better to do. Please come. Say you'll come."

" _Yes_ , Your Majesty," Sotherby said, priding himself on the calm, level tone he almost managed to hold on to.

"Oh, and you can borrow something from the royal wardrobe, I've found these fabulous masks from Venice, everybody simply must wear one, and I'm sure those boring people will appreciate it if you make a bit of effort. Is there anything else in the diary for today?"

Sotherby glanced at the book briefly, knowing exactly what was there and exactly what the King would want to do about it. "An Irish diplomat has requested an audience, sire," he said, already making a note in the margin to rearrange.

"Bother. Tell him to come back tomorrow - or, no, hmm, the day after tomorrow. I fear tonight is going to rather major, you know how pointless it is to have me doing anything after a good party."

"Indeed, sire," he said, slightly distracted as he considered whether slotting him between the French ambassador and a lord's dispute would the best idea.

"Good Lord, Sothers, was that a smile? We'll have you dancing with all the lovely ladies in no time at all! Do make sure there's plenty brought up from the wine cellar, won't you?"

"... Ladies, sire?"

Charles swatted at his arm, chuckling. "I do like you when you loosen up a little. It _was_ a brilliant idea of mine to invite you tonight. It's going to be _marvellous_."

"Very good, sire," Sotherby replied coolly, visibly straightening and schooling his previously fond expression into something more professional. "Will that be all?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes, fine, go do whatever you have to," Charles waved him off, already considering his grand entrance to the ball. "Do we have any doves handy?" he asked, but Sotherby had already hurried out of the throne room, and so Charles shrugged and went back to his planning.

 

The Grand Hall looked _splendid_. Everyone glittered in dresses and jackets of golds and scarlets and silver, twirling down the centre of the room in a lively dance or mingling around the edges as the wine and laughter spilled freely. The masks were universally beautiful, wildly decorated with feathers and sparkle or intricately detailed with fine gold leaf and masterful metalwork, all in a delicate white or the most sumptuous colours.

Charles was delighted with it all, happily tipsy and resting for a moment by the windows, watching the revellers with a wide, drunk smile - he did _so_ love the air of anonymous debauchery the masks gave. He watched as a voluptuous young woman glided past, her mask a dazzling silver and her plump lips drawing up into a leering smile as she caught his eye and winked. Oh, _hello_ \--

"Your Majesty," a familiar voice caught him just as he was about to chase after her. He turned, frowning, and then the girl was entirely forgotten as he took in the sight before him.

"My, don't you look impressive!" Charles declared, glancing over the man's dark velvet costume and his black and gold mask, covering his face from his hairline to the tip of his nose. The stranger deliberately stood at an angle to the nearest candle, casting a shadow over his eyes.

The stranger smirked in reply, bowing his head for a moment. Charles clapped his hands in delight.

"Dark _and_ mysterious! It must be my birthday. Tell me, have we met before?"

Charles looked him over again, trying to place anything familiar about him and catching on his hands for a moment, long fingers, before the stranger swooped close and nudged the corner of Charles' jaw with his lips, his tongue flickering over his earlobe before he whispered, "Follow me."

The man turned on his heel and strode across the ballroom. He paused at the entrance, his mask entirely obscuring any delicate expression but he caught Charles' eye and smiled, the twist of his lips something like a dare, or an invitation, before slipping out the door and disappearing.

Well. Charles was certainly never one to turn down something that might be exciting, and he wasted no time in dashing across the hall and through the door, pulling it shut behind him. For a brief, disappointing moment the hallway seemed entirely empty and oddly quiet after the ruckus of the ball - and then there was a sharp noise, like a boot tapping against a wooden floor, and he glanced over to see his mysterious man turn with a flourish down the corridor that led to the gardens.

He obviously knew his way around the palace, Charles noted. How intriguing!

Charles followed, as quick as his slightly unsteady limbs would let him, and soon found himself stepping out into the palace gardens, through a door that had been left slightly ajar. The night was clear and cold, and he could hear the orchestra playing faintly, the sweet swell of music enough to send him spinning down the path in a dance that possibly only existed in his head, full of sudden side-steps and arm waving, the stranger momentarily forgotten.

He stepped, and twirled, ducking through the shadows cast by a tall hedge and suddenly he was swept up into the arms of his mysterious man. "Oh, hello," Charles said, quite transfixed by the way the light was catching on the man's bottom lip. He draped his arms around the man's neck, slightly taller than himself, and gazed up at him.

A long, silent pause. The stranger seemed to be studying him, or perhaps coming to a decision, as finally the arms around his waist tightened and the man captured his mouth in a searing, crushing kiss, pulling him closer with a rough yank that had Charles gasping into his mouth. The stranger moaned, quiet and unbidden, and Charles grinned into the kiss before tilting his face and deepening it, licking into his mouth.

The kiss broke after an exquisitely slow minute of exploration, their bodies pressed impossibly close from chest to hip as the stranger splayed a hand over the small of Charles's back, their faces still a breath apart from touching, the man's mask digging into Charles's nose. His eyes were bright and colourless in the darkness. They stared at each other for an endless second, and then the man started trailing kisses from the corner of his mouth to his neck and Charles let his head fall back with a pleased sigh.

"Who _are_ you?" Charles mused out loud, trailing off into a breathy groan as the stranger nibbled his earlobe.

"None of your concern," he murmured, with a low growl that was effective in both disguising his voice and turning Charles' insides to molten gold. The stranger guided his lips towards his own and plundered his mouth again, kissing him with a fierce desperation that Charles found absolutely _fascinating._

"You're very good at that," he said, as the man pulled back for a moment. He just smiled in reply, those lips bruised and swollen and entirely unrecognisable, and Charles's eyes flashed with all the brilliance of a drunken plan. He rested his forehead against the stranger's shoulder for a moment, then shifted his face up to nuzzle against his neck, nipping lightly at the skin and delighting in the way the man shivered at that, going almost boneless at his touch, and then he latched his teeth over the skin and _sucked_.

The stranger moaned, a rolling vibration low in his throat that shot straight to Charles's cock, and then he yelped and roughly pushed him away, slapping a hand against his neck.

"Forgive me, sire," the man sighed, a low exhale of regret, before dashing off into the shadows and leaving Charles intrigued, confused, and most distressingly half-hard.

 

"I don't recall seeing you there last night, Sothers. Busy, were you?" Charles asked lightly, picking at some invisible lint on his knee as he sprawled on the throne. The late morning light was quite vicious against his eyelids.

"Quite, Your Majesty. Those very important people you were avoiding needed to be addressed accordingly. I ensured they were well cared for."

"I don't doubt it, Sotherby. Thank you."

Sothery glanced at him, surprised. "Just doing my job, sire."

Charles returned the look, studying him as he played with one of his rings, twisting it around his finger until suddenly, with a soft cry, he dropped it over the side of the throne. "Oh dear," he said. "Would you get that for me?"

Sotherby was good enough at his job to only raise an eyebrow _after_ he had knelt down and closed his hand around the ring. He shifted his weight, leaning back onto the balls of his feet as Charles's hand suddenly curled over his shoulder, a clear command with the lightest pressure and said, "One moment, Sothers."

Sotherby froze, pressing the ring tightly into his palm. Charles reached over, tucking two fingers over the edge of Sotherby's high collar and gently tugged it down - just enough to see the small, distinct bruise blooming against his neck.

"Really, Sothers," Charles purred, brushing his thumb lightly over the mark and delighting in the way Sotherby shivered and closed his eyes. "You went to all that trouble for a kiss?"

Sotherby seemed rather lost for words, his lips slightly parted. Charles, for once, was silent, regarding him. "You did insist that I attend, sire," he eventually managed, his voice carefully steady, his eyes still closed.

"Indeed I did," Charles hummed, letting his hand slip round and begin massaging the back of Sotherby's neck, his fingertips light against his spine. "I do like it when you listen to me."

Sotherby swallowed. "Come up here," Charles commanded, soft. Sotherby rose slowly to his feet, keeping his head bowed, and then he took a deep breath and met the King's gaze. "Come _here_ ," Charles said, narrowing his eyes.

In an instant Charles was surging up and Sotherby was rushing down, meeting somewhere in the middle with a bruising kiss and then they shifted, Charles spreading his legs so Sotherby could rest one knee on the throne and tower over him, Charles grabbing him by the hips to yank him closer and Sotherby cupping his jaw gently, both letting the kiss drift to something a little softer, still overwhelming and brilliant and mad but a little less rushed.

"This mustn't change anything, you understand," Charles said, as Sotherby moved away from his mouth to nibble at his jaw.

"Of course, sire," he sighed, sounding somewhat distracted.

"This is just an excellent addition to our day," he declared. When Sotherby just moaned, Charles frowned and said, "Dammit, Sothers, why are you making me be the sensible one here?"

"Because your hand is in my breeches, sire," Sotherby whimpered, panting hotly against his neck.

"So it is," Charles said, and gave an experimental rub. Sotherby growled, and then Charles scrapped his teeth over the curve of his neck and Sotherby melted against him. “My, that might come in handy,” Charles mused, before Sotherby effectively shut him up with a kiss.


End file.
